


Intermission

by janiejanine



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Uniforms and Fancy Dresses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-13 17:57:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4531569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janiejanine/pseuds/janiejanine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the crowded halls of the Winter Palace, they found an oasis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intermission

The evening of the Empress’s ball found Judith in perpetual motion. As always, she spent the time before their departure pacing back and forth, running through endless mental to-do lists and contingency plans. Tonight was going to have a lot of moving parts, any one of which could go wrong in a number of ways, and problems would have to be handled with speed and subtlety.

“Please stand still,” said Josephine, after the fifty-first circuit around the room. “You’re going to wrinkle, and watching you is exhausting.”

“Sorry,” Judith said, and made a concentrated effort to stay in one place.

It  _would_  be a shame to wrinkle her clothing. At first, she’d been worried she’d get stuffed into some frilly Orlesian nightmare, but, of course, Vivienne and Josephine had excellent taste. The gown was beautiful, with broad stripes of deep green and rich gold, a low square neck, and bits of lace at the sleeves. At her insistence, the seamstress had added a multitude of hidden pockets.

It had been a long time since she’d had to worry about her appearance. A lifetime of Trevelyan social functions had given her plenty of practice at blending into the background, but that had been easier to do before she’d become a figurehead for one of the most rapidly-growing organizations in Thedas. Before, no one had paid more than cursory attention to what she looked like; now, the wrong ensemble would reflect badly on her, her family, her staff, her followers, Ferelden, the Free Marches, and possibly the Maker himself, to hear Vivienne tell it. It was a lot of responsibility to place upon a dress.

As they made their way down the corridor, she put a little extra sway in her hips, and the frothy skirts swished around her ankles in a most satisfying manner. This dress just might be up to the task. She danced a few steps with a little twirl at the end, earning a giggle from Josephine and an indulgent smile from Vivienne.

One or both of them must have had a well-hidden romantic streak, because as she reached the head of the stairs, they’d melted away, and waiting for her at the foot was Cullen.

She wondered whose idea that had been. Josephine’s, probably, or maybe Cassandra’s–it was a setup right out of one of her romance novels. Varric was probably stationed somewhere at a discreet distance, taking notes.

Silly as it was, with the outside noise muted and the lamplight flickering and the evening breeze floating in from the gardens and filling the hall with faint floral perfume, the moment was rather magical.

The stairs were long enough to give her plenty of time to admire the view; she’d known he would probably clean up well, but imagination was nothing compared to the real thing. Formal occasions, apparently, had an upside.

By the time she reached him, he seemed equally appreciative. He pressed a chaste kiss to the back of her hand, but the look he gave her as he did so was so hot and intimate, it might as well have been between her thighs. It was the kind of look that, in the wrong hands, could tempt a person into utter disaster and make them like it.

The stars glittered overhead as they stepped out into the balmy air, the sky deepening from gold to blue to black. This operation had had an excellent beginning; maybe the rest would go smoothly, too.

* * *

Several hours later, she’d revised that opinion.

She made careful rounds of the ballroom, chatting, complimenting, planting seeds, teasing out clues. A spot of eavesdropping livened things up, but yielded mostly blackmail material that she filed away for later use.

There were a few parts of the palace she wanted to poke around in, but she knew she’d be better off waiting until the crowds around them thinned. In the meantime, she needed something to do, preferably something that didn’t involve verbal fencing with a stuffed shirt in a mask.

She perked up when she spied Cullen across the room. He would have stood out to her even if he hadn’t been dressed in bright red, but it was difficult to see, surrounded as he was by a surprising number of people. His face was carefully neutral, but the expression was betrayed by the tense set of his shoulders.

She wove her way over and plucked him neatly out of the crowd, summoning up enough Inquisitorial hauteur to deter any protests.

“All right?” she asked, once they were a safe distance away.

He tugged ineffectively at his sleeve. “I feel like I’ve been upholstered.”

“You make a very attractive chaise.”

“Thank you.” He cracked a small smile. “Won’t you be missed?”

“Everyone just saw me dancing with Duke Grenier, so everyone knows I’m in the ballroom. I’ll have some time before they realize I’m not.”

They strolled through the grand hallways, each one long and wide enough to race horses through. The crush quickly grew smaller as they left the ballroom behind them, and as soon as she was sure there was no one else about, she ducked them into a small niche tucked into the wall, hidden from all but the faintest traces of music and chatter.

She wrapped her arms around him, and after a moment she felt him relax, resting his chin on the top of her head with an audible sigh. She’d needed to get away from the noise of the ballroom, the flurry of faces and the pressure of conversation, and it seemed she’d been correct in assuming that he had, too.

“How did you know this was here?” he asked.

“If a home is big enough, it’ll have them,” she said. “It was only a question of where. I suspect they build these places to encourage dalliance.”

“Is that what we’re doing?” he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. “Dallying?”

“So I’m told.”

“You never did this before?”

“Oh, no. I wasn’t much good at parties when I was young. A wallflower. Actually…” She stood on her tiptoes and leaned in for a kiss. “There. I’ve officially dallied. A bit late, but it’ll do.”

She knew even as she did it that that was probably a mistake. Once she started kissing him, she never wanted to  _stop_  kissing him, and this just wasn’t the time, not when there were so many other things to worry about.

She was so busy resisting the temptation to wrap herself up in his solid warmth and toss responsibility out the window that it took her a few moments to notice that his gaze had dropped to her mouth.

Whatever Cullen did, he gave it his full concentrated attention, and right now, his entire being was focused on her lips. She shouldn’t take advantage of it. She  _shouldn’t._

She did.

The urge to rumple him never really left her, and she gave in to it now, tangling her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. He kissed her like he couldn’t taste enough of her, like she was the only tangible thing in an illusory world.

His hands came up to cup her breasts, thumbs brushing lightly over the soft, exposed skin, leaving gooseflesh in their wake. Her neckline was much lower than she was used to, but it was certainly convenient.

Her touch drifted southward, over fine wool and firm muscle, and she felt rather than heard his groan as she laid her palm flat against his length and found him already hard and eager. With that, whatever was left of her self-restraint vanished.

“We’re here on business,” he said, though any effect his words might have had was offset by the tingly path his lips were tracing down her neck.

“This is a terrible idea,” she agreed. She’d already undone two of his trouser buttons, and was working on a third.

“Ever since I first saw you in that dress, I’ve wanted to take it off you.”

“Do you have any idea how long it would take to put it back on?”

“Plan B, then,” he said.

Her voluminous skirts rose, bit by bit, until his fingers found bare thigh. She shivered. His touch on her skin, with all those layers of cloth between them, was absolutely wicked. All the clutter in her head faded into the background, and everything narrowed to the simplest of sensations: the salt of his sweat, the wall against her back, her ragged breaths mingling with his.

He traced the curve of her parted thighs up and up to the juncture, warm and wet even through the thin fabric of her underthings. A soft moan escaped her and she clamped her mouth shut, delicious tension coiling low.

As he stroked her, he kept just to the left of where she most ardently wanted him to be. He was doing it on purpose, and it was maddening, and if he didn’t fuck her senseless right this instant, she’d burst out of her skin like an overripe fruit.

She ground herself against his hand, knew he could feel how much she wanted him, and, to further make her point, she reached down and wrapped her fingers around his cock, running her thumb over the tip.

With a low growl he pushed her hands away and pulled her smallclothes aside and filled her in one smooth movement. She leaned back, urging him deeper as he held her in place, spread open, heavy silk cascading decadently around them.

His thrusts were quick, urgent, in just the right place, and she couldn’t swallow her moans anymore. One of her hands kept her braced against his shoulder; the other stayed planted firmly over her mouth. Any too-loud noise would be disastrous, but she didn’t know how she was going to  _keep_  from letting the entire gathering know exactly how good he felt, how desperately she needed to come. Every nerve begged for release, burning where his fingers dug into her hips.

She’d known she was close, but her climax came suddenly, crashing over her like a wave and leaving her shaking as he followed, breathless and exhausted.

His grip relaxed and she slid down until both feet were back on the ground. As she slowly drifted back to her senses, she realized just how risky that had been. If they had been caught…but they hadn’t, she reminded herself. Ultimately, it had been worth it, to carve out a little pocket of calm, together, when it all got to be too much.

Her bodice had gotten twisted around somehow, and his hair was noticeably disheveled. Hastily, they put themselves back together until they looked more or less as they had.

Just before they left their alcove, he leaned close and murmured, “After this, I’m going to take you home and get you out of that dress properly.”

She responded with a smile and an anticipatory hum, and they moved on, ready for whatever Orlais could throw at them. 


End file.
